Even in 2006 the idea of opening a restaurant with a fighting chance of garnering two Michelin stars would require a certain kind of inspired lunacy. To have done so in 1981 suggests the kind of courage that makes psychiatrists reach for the committal papers.
Thankfully, neither Patrick Guilbaud nor his backers were confined for their own protection 25 years ago, when they unleashed their very proper restaurant on an unsuspecting Dublin. Many of those who are now regulars in what has become a national institution lacked the proverbial arse to their trousers in those far-off days.
Mind you, Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud is a regular haunt only for the very few; for the rest of us, it's for very special occasions. A restaurant that operates at this stratospheric level of quality must, by definition, be very expensive. But the odd thing is that establishments of this calibre - and they are very few - are generally even more expensive in other places. Guilbaud's food prices are consistent with those of similar restaurants in France, but their wines are almost cheap by comparison.
Let's be clear about one thing. If you want to experience RPG on a budget, you have to go for lunch. If you want to celebrate something really special, dinner is the way to go, but bear in mind that you will still be paying at least €120 a head. And that's just for the food.
So is it worth it? That's up to you and your priorities. Guilbaud's demonstrates that Ireland has at least one restaurant than can compete with the best in the world.
And, in this respect, my starter would almost certainly beat anything similar that the rest of the world can do. It involved what we do best: seafood, in this instance langoustine and caviar. Four plump, steamed Dublin Bay prawns of impeccable quality were perfectly cooked and lightly topped with the fishy black grains. The merging of the prawn and the caviar in the mouth created a third flavour that was sublime and that lingered the way a wine with real "length" does. The subtle sweetness of baby leeks, enhanced by candied lemon and bathed with a silky veloute, completed a perfect picture. There are, perhaps, a few restaurants in the world that could equal this dish; I don't believe any could surpass it.
Our other starter was a parcel of the silkiest handmade egg pasta that you can imagine, containing a dense filling of chunks of lobster. The lobster was the real deal: not frozen, not Canadian, not farmed. It was from Clogher Head, in Co Louth, and had an intensity of flavour that I still dream of. The lubrication involved a creamy lobster reduction scented with coconut, and there was a drizzle of quite exceptional olive oil.
The lobster cropped up again in my main course: a lobster tail in which each morsel of flesh was separated from the carapace and rendered all too easily edible. An intense sauce flavoured with "double smoked Alsace bacon" and Parmesan was an unlikely but brilliant accompaniment. Each mouthful was perfection.
Pan-roasted T-bone of turbot was served with onion, both caramelised and simply softened, with a glaze based on ale. It was, perhaps, the simplest dish of the evening, but it was, again, perfectly judged in terms of the sweetness of the fish and the onion.
A cheese selection that appeared to be Sheridan's-on-wheels, plus a raspberry macaroon with honey and lavender parfait, and almond cake with a blood-red and amazingly intense raspberry jus, made a fitting end to a stupendous meal. Coffee and jewel-like petits fours were the coup de grace.
The bill, I am embarrassed to admit, came to €471 for two (€316 on food and service, the rest on wine). Had we been more stringent we might have got out for a shade over €300. But it would have been a false economy. This was the kind of food, accompanied by the kind of wine, that lingers in the memory for years rather than days.
WINE CHOICE: It would take many pages to do justice to Guildbaud's thickly bound wine list. We each had a glass of Pariente Verdejo (€7) from Rueda as an aperitif. We then had the Mâcon-Pierreclos
"Le Chavigne" 2000 (€84), from Guffens-Heynen, which knocks spots off dearer Burgundian Chardonnays.
With the cheese we stuck with Burgundy and had a half-bottle of the gloriously perfumed Domaine Dujac Morey Saint-Denis 2002, at €57. It would have been no hardship to have drunk the lovely Domaine Talmard Mâcon-Uchizy (€36) and a half-bottle of Guigal Côtes du Rhône (€24), but you can do that at home. Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Grands Échezeaux 1959 (€1,151) is probably perfect about now, but we managed a degree of self-restraint.
Restaurant Patrick Guilbaud, 21 Upper Merrion Street, Dublin 2, 01-6764192, www.restaurantpatrickguilbaud.ie